The Weight Of The World (Night Vale, Cecilos, One-shot)
by Cassandra Telford
Summary: Carlos receives a letter, notifying him that his research is no longer being funded, but that if he moves to New York, he can have a new assignment. The scientist can't afford to stay in Night Vale and gets frustrated when Cecil doesn't understand. Faced with the prospect of Carlos leaving, Cecil makes a decision.


**Notes:**

Cecilos pairing

TW: Suicide threat (brief mention, not detailed)

So, the basic premise was thanks to these posts on AskCecilAndCarlos:  
post/62661797622/carlos-i-i-i-better-go-pack-my-ba gs  
post/62662265887/carlos-i-cant-afford-this-cecil-i -have-no

And this post:  
post/62308861004/the-worst-thing-to-happen-after-c ecils

Carlos's last name contributed by ace-of-blue-spades and used another last name idea for the Atlas guy, from ghostlyfemme (both tumblr)

Please comment! I'd love to know what you think!

* * *

"And now, the weather," said Cecil Baldwin's voice through the small speakers of Carlos' radio. The beautiful, perfect scientist was sitting at one of his work desks in his lab, but he hadn't gotten anything done all day long. Normally listening to Cecil's broadcast both intrigued him and soothed him (there was something nearly hypnotic about Cecil's voice) but Carlos' was neither intrigued nor soothed as he sat there and stared at the official-looking letter in his hands, skimming over it for what seemed the millionth time. His emotions instead rapidly shifted between worry, anger, despair, and resignation. He set the letter down and sighed, running both of his hands through his beautiful hair before taking another deep breath, turning down his radio and pulling out his cell phone. He pushed the button for Cecil's speed-dial and sighed again, unsure if he hoped the radio host would answer or not.

Cecil did answer, on the first ring. "Carlos! You know you're not supposed to call me while I'm at work!" the Voice of Night Vale said gleefully, not at all upset that Carlos was breaking the rule.

Any other day, Carlos would've pointed out that Cecil wasn't supposed to answer calls on his personal cell while at the studio, so he was breaking the rule as much as Carlos himself was, but he didn't have the energy right now. "No, I know," Carlos said, his voice weary, "but Cecil…"

Cecil was immediately worried. "Carlos? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Carlos said, sighing again. "I mean, I'm in no immediate danger. But do you think you could come to the lab after your show?"

"Of course, I'll be there quick as I can," he said, still sounding worried.

"Thanks, Cecil," Carlos said before hanging up.

He turned the volume back up on his radio but he wasn't really listening to the weather, nor did he really hear the rest of the show. He vaguely registered when Cecil said, "Good night, Night Vale, good night," and almost illogically quickly afterward, he heard a knock at the door. "What's wrong, Carlos?" Cecil asked right away when Carlos let him in. Carlos gestured for Cecil to sit at his work desk with him and wordlessly handed him the letter he'd been rereading all day long. Cecil gave Carlos a concerned look and read the letter, his eyes zipping back and forth and his brow furrowing deeper with every paragraph:

_Mr. Santos:_

We at Atlas Research Corporation are writing to inform you that your assignment has been terminated. It has been determined that your "research" in Night Vale is not yielding results that could be of any help to the scientific community, and thus, we will no longer be funding your work in Night Vale, effective immediately.

Mr. Santos, allow us to be quite frank. While at the beginning of your time in Night Vale, we were willing to overlook comments of the strange in your reports in order to allow you time to acclimate to the new environment, your so-called research has gotten progressively more outlandish to the point of lunacy. Your scientific skepticism seems to be failing you, or perhaps there is something in that local water that is not agreeing with you. Whatever the case, your nonsense has continued for long enough.

Mr. Santos, when you first came to this corporation, you showed great promise. Your test scores were exceptional and your previous fieldwork has been brilliant. This is why we would like to offer you a new assignment, closer to home at our research facility in New York. If, as we hope, this nonsense in Night Vale is a mere hiccup in your scientific progress, we believe you can yet be a valuable member of our team and asset to our corporation. Enclosed is a plane ticket to New York. Upon your arrival, we will give you a salary advance so that you may find accommodations.

Regards,

Atlas Research Corporation

Cecil looked a bit shocked when he finished the letter. He was furious that someone would refer to Carlos' work as nonsense but he understood that expressing his anger wouldn't help Carlos at the moment; the scientist was clearly very stressed out about the whole ordeal. "Carlos, I'm so sorry," Cecil said, resting a hand on Carlos' knee like Carlos had done to him back at the parking lot that day. "This is very unfortunate."

Carlos was slightly surprised that Cecil didn't seem more upset about it. "Yes, it is," he said slowly. He put his hand on Cecil's. "I would ask you to stay the night," he said, "but I'm probably going to be up all night packing, so I probably-"

"Wait, packing?" Cecil asked sharply.

Carlos blinked. "Yes," he said, "my plane leaves tomorrow evening and I have a lot of things I need to sort out here before I leave."

"You're not actually leaving," Cecil said as though it was obvious, then after a pause, his brow furrowed and his asked, "Are you?"

Carlos shrugged. "I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do!" Cecil said, his voice becoming more agitated. "Night Vale is your home now, you can't leave."

"I can't stay!" Carlos said, his own voice growing louder. He'd had a long day of worry and stress and frustration and it was all starting to come out. "Cecil, I have no money! Atlas's funding was all I was getting by on. I was supposed to get another check from them this Monday. I barely have enough money for food right now."

"But Carlos-"

"What am I supposed to do, Cecil?" Carlos realized he was on his feet and shouting.

"Work here! There's work in Night Vale, Carlos, find a job here." Cecil was almost pleading now.

"And what in the mean time? I'll get evicted, I'll have no place to keep my equipment… and besides, who's going to hire me here? There's not exactly a research facility here. And besides," Carlos was just venting his anger now, "I'm a _real_ scientist. _Real_ science, Cecil, real facts, real figures, real occurrences. Not this stupid hocus pocus supernatural bullshit that I've been trying to make sense of for the past year. Not glowing clouds and sentient forests and angels and creatures with too many eyes!"

Cecil's mouth fell open and he unconsciously touched his forehead. He tried not to be hurt. Carlos was upset, and had every right to be. He was saying things he didn't mean, Cecil tried to convince himself. "I… thought you liked Night Vale," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

"Like it? This lunatic police-state? Where it's dangerous to walk outside but maybe even more dangerous to stay in your own home? I'm lucky I'm even still alive! I'm lucky the City Council hasn't tortured me!"

"I thought you liked _me_," Cecil said even more quietly.

Carlos sighed and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. "I do, Cecil. I do like you. But I can't stay, and it's not as if I could ever get you to leave this psychotic town."

Cecil stood up now too, a bit of his own anger flaring up, his third eye beginning to peek open as an effect of the strong emotion. "That's not fair, Carlos. I can't leave, I physically cannot, you know that."

Carlos was still pretty worked up and didn't know what else to say. He did care about Cecil, sincerely – but it wasn't as though they were in a very serious relationship (yet, anyway). They'd been on a few dates, but that was it. He didn't want to leave Cecil, but with no income, his choices were slim, and romantic attachments were something that Carlos had seen, once upon a time, as nothing but a detriment to the pursuit of science. _You're a scientist, Carlos,_ he thought to himself. _Equations, formulas, chemicals, research, hypotheses, these should be your focus. Observation, analysis, the study of the real – how have you wandered so far away from these? And for what? Blood rituals and floating felines? If you stay in Night Vale, you might never do real science again._ But still, there was Cecil, standing in front of him. Cecil with his soothing voice. Handsome Cecil. Enthusiastic Cecil. Tenacious Cecil. Carlos' first love had been science. Would he trade for the real love of another (almost) human being? He felt like a monster for thinking it – in the face of Cecil's unwavering devotion to him – but Carlos didn't think he could do it, trade science for love. Carlos voice was quiet again when he spoke. "The sooner I leave Night Vale, the better."

The scientist couldn't meet Cecil's eyes, and so looked away instead. A million terrible emotions ran through Cecil and his lip quivered, his eyes tearing up. But it seemed like Carlos had nothing else to say, so Cecil took a deep breath and let all of his emotions drain away on the exhale. When he spoke, his voice was cold and emotionless. "Ok, Carlos," he said, "then, goodbye." And with that, Cecil turned and walked away.

"Cecil, wait," Carlos said, a sudden pang in his heart. He knew now that he'd really hurt Cecil and that wasn't what he'd wanted. But the door had already swung shut. He went over and opened it, calling Cecil's name, but Cecil was nowhere to be seen. The street was in fact deserted, except for Old Woman Josie and one of the Erikas, out for a walk. Erika and Josie looked toward Carlos and he gave a half-hearted wave and then retreated back into his lab where he sat back down at his desk, cradled his face in his hands, and for a while, cried. 

* * *

"Well, that's no good, now is it?" Old Woman Josie said, looking up at Erika. Though they had indeed been on a walk, they had stopped a few minutes ago outside Carlos' lab, overhearing the scientist's shouting through the open-by-mandate windows. "Certainly there's something you can do to make this right, isn't there, Erika?" Josie asked. The angel cocked its head at her, as though unsure of what she wanted it to do. "Well, we can't have Carlos leaving, can we? He's part of our town now. And look what it would do to poor Cecil. And if anything happens to Cecil, the Council will not be happy and that could be bad for everyone." The angel nodded and began to glow slightly. Suddenly, two more angels appeared there with them. The first angel emitted a softly pulsing light, tilting its head this way and that as it communicated with the others, who glowed intermittently in return. And then as swiftly as they had come, they disappeared. "Good," Old Woman Josie said with a smile, "that's all sorted then. She looked at the windows of Carlos's lab. "Don't worry, Carlos," she said quietly, "it's all going to be ok."

At least, she thought it was. 

* * *

But several blocks away things were decidedly not ok, though Cecil denied the feeling. He walked quickly his face full of determination, his jaw set in what might've been anger.

Somewhere in the past several years that Cecil had worked as the Voice of Night Vale, he'd forgotten whether his dedication to the town was his own, or whether it was something City Council had instilled in him. When Cecil had been born with a third eye possessing strange psychic powers, the Council had immediately chosen him for the radio position, training him throughout his childhood in the arts of charisma, apathy, and acting. Any reporter had to be able to report the news in an unbiased way, and though the re-education had hit some blips with topics like Steve Carlsberg, the Council had largely been able to beat all of Cecil's emotions out. At first, the thought had terrified Cecil, but over the years he had to cover so many gruesome stories and deal with so many violent and grisly situations that he'd begun to welcome the lack of emotions. He was magnificent at faking emotions, but even when the re-education would be begin to wear off (a result maybe of the third eye's strange powers), Cecil would voluntarily shut down his emotions. It was an easier way to live. Eventually, he'd slip up somewhere and be sent to re-education again, and though the process was excruciatingly painful, the next few months were always full of easy apathy. He still never purposely got himself sent to re-education; he'd been re-educated more times than anyone else in Night Vale and he bore several scars from the incidents.

But then Carlos had come to town, and as Cecil had announced to the whole of Night Vale over the airwaves, he had fallen in love instantly. Perfect, beautiful Carlos made Cecil feel again and at first, Cecil had been somewhat worried. Emotions led to pain, he had learned. But he couldn't help it with Carlos and his oaky voice. Carlos and his flannel, and his lab coat. Carlos and the streaks of gray at his temples in his perfect, beautiful hair. Carlos made Cecil feel, but they were good feelings. And for the first time in a long time, Cecil had begun to truly open up to human emotions again. Cecil fell in love, and had been surprised to find that it didn't hurt. Not until now. Now it hurt. It hurt a lot. And Cecil knew one way to fix that.

And so he found himself in front of City Hall. He pushed the door open and made his way up through the dark, damp building, to the office of the City Council. He entered without knocking and stood there, fearlessly facing the Council members who were sitting around a table, staring blankly at each other. "Re-educate me," he said firmly.

Though they hadn't reacted when he'd walked in, when the spoke in unison, the voices of the Council were irritated. "Such impertinence from the Voice of Night Vale. We do not take orders or demands from anyone. You'll be lucky if we don't re-educate some manners into you."

"Do it. Re-educate me," Cecil said again.

"Who are you to make demands?" the Council snarled.

"If you don't, I'll leave Night Vale," Cecil threatened.

But the Council members let out creepy, identical laughs, knowing as well as Cecil that it was an empty threat. "You cannot leave," they said.

"Fine," Cecil said, his voice icy, his third eye opening and glowing faintly purple, "if you don't re-educate me, I'll kill myself."

The Council hissed. They had a fair amount of control over Cecil, but this threat was real. They did not fully understand the limits or capabilities of his third eye and they needed him as a radio host. For all the trouble he caused, he was an invaluable asset. "What is it exactly that you want?" they growled in something like defeat.

Cecil knew he'd won. "Make me forget Car—" he stopped. The name was tied so closely to so many emotions and he shook his head, wishing he hadn't even started to say it. "Make me forget the scientist."

"The scientist?"

"Yes," Cecil said. "I know you've wanted to for a while. No more of me fawning over him. No more of me talking about our dates during news time. No more of me mentioning him at all on the air. Make me forget him."

"Yes, this is good," the Council said, then they growled again. "We do not take orders from anyone. We are doing this for our own intentions."

"Sure you are," Cecil muttered, smiling darkly. The comment would earn him a bit of extra, unnecessarily painful re-education, he knew, but he didn't care anymore. The more he forgot, the better. 

* * *

After many years of the painful brainwashing, Cecil had eventually stopped screaming, stopped making any sound all together at the treatment was administered. But tonight was different. Tonight, Cecil screamed, and through his third eye's psychic connection with the entire town, the sound of Cecil's pain reverberated in the head of every lifelong resident of Night Vale. It was as though (and quite possible that) Night Vale itself was sentient, using the power of Cecil's eye to connect everyone. As the memories of the perfect, beautiful scientist, Carlos, were forcibly ripped from Cecil's mind, so too did everyone else's memories of the scientist slowly fade and all through Night Vale rang the echoes of the pain that Cecil was determined never to feel again. 

* * *

The next afternoon, Cecil was awakened by the ringing of his cell phone. He sat upright, his glasses askew. He was on the floor, leaning against a packed suitcase, having fallen asleep in the wee hours of the morning as he packed up all of his earthly possessions. His cell continued to ring and he straightened his glasses as he pulled the phone out of the pocket. Through bleary eyes, he read the caller ID: _Atlas._

He cleared his throat, hit the 'accept' button, and said croakily, "Hello?"

"Mr. Santos?"

"Speaking," Carlos said.

"This is… Doctor Mark Payan… with Atlas Research Corporation…" the voice on the other end of the line said. Carlos knew the man and knew his voice, but the speech was strangely slurred and somewhat empty sounding.

"Um…" he muttered, getting his thoughts together. "Ahhh, yes! Yes, I received your letter, I'm planning to board the flight this evening," he said, checking his watch as the thought occurred to him that he might've missed the flight, but he hadn't.

"Mr. Santos… Do you want to… stay in Night Vale?"

Carlos raised an eyebrow, confused. "What?"

"Do you want… to stay in Night Vale?"

Carlos chuckled a bit bitterly. "With all due respect, Mr. Payan, I want a steady income, and if that means I fly to New York, then I'm flying to New York."

"Mr. Santos… Is it your desire… to stay in Night Vale?"

Carlos was really confused now and he mulled the question over in his mind. He could still feel salt on his cheeks from where he'd been crying the night before. The tears had plagued him intermittently as he had wondered if he'd ever see Cecil again. "Yes," he said quietly. "If I could, I would stay in Night Vale."

"Good," Mr. Payan said, "Mr. Santos, Atlas Research Corporation… has decided to… continue to fund… your Night Vale assignment… A check is… in the mail…"

"What?" Carlos practically shouted! "Are you kidding me? I can stay?"

"We will continue… to fund your research…"

Carlos was beaming in disbelief. "I have to go tell Cecil," he muttered. "Mr. Payan, what changed your mind?"

"What changed… my… mind?" The man's voice became a bit clearer for a moment and he sounded confused. "My… mind? Last night, there was… a light. A bright… light and… two figures that looked like…" His speech slurred again, losing the confused tone. "We have decided... your research… is of merit… Thank you, Mr. Santos." And then the line went dead.

Carlos didn't understand what had happened really, but he wasn't about to question the good luck. "Yes!" he shouted, before running out the door and driving over to the radio station as fast as he legally could. 

* * *

"Hey, you can't come in here!" the new WTNV intern, Dave, exclaimed as the man in a lab coat came barreling into his production booth. Just beyond was Cecil's radio booth, and he was in the middle of a broadcast, but Carlos didn't care. He had to apologize and tell Cecil that everything was going to be ok, that he was going to be able to stay. "Hey!" Dave continued, but Carlos ignored him, heading right for Cecil's booth.

"And that, citizens, is why we must fear and loathe the color yellow…" Cecil was saying, but he stopped short when a man burst in.

Carlos put his hand over the mic in front of Cecil, which did not, in fact, block out his voice from the broadcast, but instead made it sound muffled. Cecil started to protest but Carlos put his hand on the Voice's shoulder. "Cecil, I can stay in Night Vale!"

"What?" Cecil asked.

"I know, I'm surprised too, but Atlas called me and they said their going to keep funding my research. I can stay!" Carlos was grinning ear to ear, but Cecil was only looking at him, slightly confused, and not nearly as excited as Carlos had hoped. In fact, Carlos would've accepted any strong emotion right then, even if it was Cecil being angry at him for being insensitive the night before. "I can stay," Carlos repeated, but with a little less enthusiasm, as he looked into Cecil's uncomprehending eyes.

"I'm sorry," Cecil said, "but who are you?" 

* * *

In years to come, Carlos the scientist, a prestigious and successful head researcher at Atlas Research Corporation, would come to regard his time in Night Vale as a dream. And many, many years later, he would regale his children and grandchildren with stories of hovering cats and glowing clouds and a mysterious radio host that he could only barely remember. They would laugh and remind him that those things were impossible and that Night Vale didn't exist, but Carlos would never be sure. After all, why else would he remember driving away from the town and listening to the last bits of a radio broadcast before the signal broke up?

_"Listeners, a strange man was just in my studio," Carlos seemed to recall the voice on the radio saying. "A beautiful man, with perfect hair, and he said some strange things, implying that I knew him, but I would remember if I had met someone that beautiful and perfect. Who was this man? He left without saying. Will we ever see him again?"_


End file.
